


Smiles and Sunshine

by PromptoSilver



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Eating Disorders, Feelings, Gen, Hurt, Mentions of Prompto's parents, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, fatshaming, mentions of Gladio - Freeform, mentions of Ignis, mentions of Noctis, mentions of Xenophobia / racism, my take on Prompto's feelings from his childhood till now, selfshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromptoSilver/pseuds/PromptoSilver
Summary: Prompto Argentum wasn’t all smiles and sunshine back then. He wasn’t now either.-An exploration of Prompto's feelings from his childhood till his 20 year old self.





	Smiles and Sunshine

Prompto Argentum wasn’t all smiles and sunshine back then. He wasn’t now either.

When Prompto was a kid, he was used to being alone. His parents were always gone, work, appointments, anything. It was like they didn’t want to come home. Like they didn’t want to see Prompto. To care for him. He felt lonely ever since he knew what the word meant. Maybe before it, too, but how could he possibly know? Prompto never had friends, he wasn’t good at talking and every time he tried to be part of a group he was pushed out. He didn’t have the strength to pull through, his voice was too shallow, too quiet.

It started in elementary school when he was given lunch money and he’d spent it on fast food. He knew it was bad, but no one was telling him not to eat it, right? And it made him feel good, it stuffed him up, it was fat and greasy and it made him feel warm and filled up with something that he thought love might feel like. How should he ever know how it truly felt? Prompto was aware of his tattooed barcode since he was able to understand that he was the only one who had it. No one else did, neither his so called parents, nor any other person he’d met. And being forced to hide it away made him feel even more like an alien. Like he didn’t belong here. Nowhere. 

Time passed, and Prompto became wobbly and fat, heavy, even more unwanted. He heard his classmates talk behind his back, how they made fun of his figure. It made him even more sad, even more lonely and food was the only healing he could find. His skin stretched out, it left marks and scars. Everything looked ugly and Prompto couldn’t bare to see himself in the mirror anymore. He fled into photography, taking pictures of things that were beautiful in his eyes. Animals. They never judged him, they wouldn’t turn him down because of how he looked or who he was. They were pure and always free of judgement. Still, he was eleven years old when he first thought that dying would be better. That it might free him from all the shame, the humiliations, the loneliness. But he was scared, Prompto didn’t have the strength, the bravery to actually try anything. He didn’t even know how.

After he first met Noctis, after Lunafreya’s beautiful letter, he thought he’d found hope. That finally, he had a reason to be there, that Prompto was finally needed. And he thought he’d have to change. It motivated him, so he started running, tried his best to eat healthy. It made him feel good. Proud, even. But still, his parents kept being absent, some classmates kept talking. Humiliation didn’t stop. It would all have been too easy, too wonderful like a fairytale if things just got better. And worse, the hate he felt for himself didn’t stop either. Everytime he looked in the mirror and took a photo of his progress, he tried to tell himself that the stretchmarks and scars would still fade away. That one day, he would grow into a handsome man if he kept working hard. It didn’t go that well.

Prompto lost a lot of weight until he entered high school. The scars and marks remained, though. He hated himself for them. He hated how his skin still felt around his stomach. When he was at school, Prompto put on a smile. Truly, he was somehow able to befriend Noctis finally, and he had fun. It felt good. Being with Noctis, having a friend. But there were days and nights where Prompto felt unworthy of this friendship. Where he binge ate cheap burgers, then vomited them out of his system an hour later. And then, there were days where he didn’t eat at all. There was no inbetween anymore, no actual schedule. When Noct wanted to eat shitty food, he’d eat with him. Later he’d always regret it. 

Sometimes at night, he couldn’t sleep. Prompto felt like all of this wasn’t real. Like Noctis wasn’t real, like he just imagined him. Because who truly wanted to be friends with him, right? Who would even talk to him? To the fat kid, to the ‘Nif’ how some called him. Prompto knew he was adopted, but he didn't know about his origins. Still, some people saw resemblance in his skin and hair with the hated enemy. People sometimes rather stood in the bus than to sit next to him. Like he was toxic, like he was somehow going to hurt them. And it were nights like these, when his thoughts went wild, that he took out the razor blade he once stole from his father, who didn’t even notice it gone missing, and he’d cut himself. Prompto cut into his arm. It bled, it hurt, and it felt real. He cried, but his feelings drowned in the pain.

Prompto had always hid his wounds, he was good at hiding things. And so, Noctis never noticed. But sometimes, deep within, Prompto wished Noctis would notice. He wished Noctis would see behind his smiles, behind what he was hiding. But damn, Prompto was too good at hiding, and no one ever noticed. Even when he met Ignis and Gladio, they thought he was a happy go lucky guy. They thought he lived in a happy little household with his mom and dad and they loved him and everything was alright. But nothing was. He was alone, as soon as he entered his home. Having Noct, Gladdy and Iggy at his side kept him going. Still, even then, even though he had finally found friends, his thoughts sometimes drifted off. They made him feel small and unimportant again. Unloved, unwanted. They made him want to end it all again. So he stood in the bathroom, his razor blade on his wrist, but he didn’t do it.

When Prompto was accepted as a crownsguard and had grown a stronger bond not only to Noctis but to Ignis and Gladio as well, he felt like he found his way. Like finally, he was truly loved. Truly accepted. But still, even now, sometimes he couldn’t stand himself in the mirror. Sometimes he wanted to hurt himself again, to feel pain instead of sadness or loneliness. Because he still felt like he wasn’t good enough, like he was like a third wheel, not actually part of their group. Something alien. Something unwanted. And still, Prompto wouldn’t give up to work hard on him. To be of use, to be of worth. What he didn’t think about anymore, was to end his life. Because despite all he’d been through, despite all his thoughts and worry and panic, he wanted to live. And he thanked his friends for that.

Prompto Argentum wasn’t all smiles and sunshine, but now, he was able to smile because he felt like it. And that was worth something.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get these words out of my mind, and now I'm glad I did. I just think, there are a lot of things about Prompto that were never mentioned in canon, but somehow implied, or at least it made sense he felt in those ways. It might be very personal for me, too. I relate to a lot that Prompto went through, and others might as well. I'd appreciate every Kudo and comment. Thanks for reading!


End file.
